Tudor Rose

xx. foreign beginnings

November 7. 1514

Mary Tudor, the queen of France and Henry's unlucky and lonely sister, invited Henry and I to her court to escape the tragedy that was the loss of our child. It was a pain like no other, and the longer we remained in Hampton, the more it hurt. Henry wanted to see his sister, who had been married to the king of France without his knowing, terribly, so it seemed right to accept the invitation.

I traveled to the foreign court with three of my ladies in waiting. Mary, Clara and Isabell came along, but Sarah used my absence as an opportunity to visit her sister, who she hadn't seen in a long while. I couldn't deny her such a simple request. It had been quite some time since I'd seen my own sisters, but there wasn't much I could do about it. Elizabeth, who my father had cut off from our family funds, was adjusting to a disappointingly simple life. I managed to sneak her money or other things every so often, though. Beatrice was consumed with Lucy and the orphan boy she was caring for. She was determined to find out as much as she possibly could about him.

The first thing I noticed about French court was how quiet and cold people seemed. I had only been there for an hour or so, but I was treated with much less friendliness from those I didn't know than I was in England. I dismissed it, assuming it was because I was a foreign queen.

Mary came to my chambers shortly after I arrived to greet me, just as I was beginning to unpack my things. Isabell and Clara were helping me settle in, and I allowed Mary to spend some time with her family, who she hadn't seen in many months. Even though I didn't like her very much, I couldn't deny her request, which was so simple.

"Anna! How pleased I am that you came!" Mary greeted, bursting into the room unannounced.

I'd never met Mary Tudor before, but I was pleasantly surprised. She was a lovely woman of only eighteen years, with a lively demeanor and beautiful features. Her eyes, even though they were a simple shade of grey, glistened. Her skin was pale and frosty, a product of lengthy amounts of time spent indoors rather than gallivanting around and basking in the autumn weather. Her hair, a pleasant auburn that confirmed the Tudor blood running through her veins, was pulled back in a blatantly English style. We sat down at a small table, facing each other, while my ladies continued unpacking and organizing.

"It is wonderful to finally meet you," I replied, smiling warmly at her, "It is so kind of you to invite us into your home."

"Nonsense," the French queen answered. I noticed her usually British accent was tainted with the slightest bit of French. "It is quite lonely here," she admitted, "I know no one, and they all speak such fluent French that sometimes I can't keep up."

"Didn't you start learning French at a young age?" I asked, "My own daughter is supposed to start learning foreign languages in a few years."

"I did, but everyone here speaks it so fast and with such strong accents. I try my best, but sometimes I mishear things. It's quite embarrassing, really," Mary answered, "Oh, speaking of your little girl, is she here? Henry has written the most wonderful things about her."

"We did. She is with Henry now, I believe," I replied, "I could send for them so you could meet her properly if you'd like."

"Oh, please do!" Mary exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Though she was only two years younger than me, she was much more full of life and energetic than me. I assumed it was simply because the pressure of being a good queen hadn't taken its toll on her yet. 

 "Clara, could you go fetch my husband and daughter for us?" I requested.

Clara was the only lady of mine I truly trusted. She was quiet, but graceful and kind. I knew many men had taken a liking to her, especially Charles Brandon, but she was reserved and unwilling to respond to their pursuits. I admired her for that. She had multiple men, all rich beyond reason and titled, vying for her attention, yet she turned them all away. It came as no surprise, of course, because she was a very beautiful young girl who was extremely likable. I envied her freedom. Mine had been taken from me, just as Mary Tudor's was being taken from her.

Only a few moments later, Clara, Henry, and Katherine entered the room. Katherine immediately ran over to me, nearly tripping over her lilac dress. Mary gasped at the sight of the toddler princess, and hugged her brother briefly.

"She's precious!" Mary said, kneeling to Katherine's level, "It is very nice to meet you, Your Highness. Welcome to France."

Katherine curtsied to her aunt delicately. She had clearly paid as much attention in her brief lessons as possible for a two year old. She was becoming an incredibly charming and clever girl, intelligent beyond her very few years.

"It is very nice to meet you, too, Queen Mary," Katherine said.

Mary giggled. "Aunt Mary will do just fine, Katherine."

Katherine nodded, and then wrapped her arms around Mary affectionately. Mary was taken aback, hardly being able to contain her position. Henry and I looked at each other, sad smiles on our faces. As much as I loved Katherine, I couldn't get my son's face out of my mind. His heartwarming laugh echoed in my mind. His big, bright blue eyes were engraved in my memory, and I saw them whenever I looked into Henry's matching set. But I vowed to myself that I would not let the sorrow and pain Edward's death brought me, it would not get in the way of the happiness I had right in front of myself. I had a husband who cared greatly for me, a daughter who I adored, a kingdom that admired me, among other pleasant things. I lived a luxurious life that others would do anything for, and I couldn't forget my privilege.

"Mary, thank you for inviting us to France. We will be staying until the coronation, right?" Henry said. 

"Yes. I would urge you to stay longer, but you have duties in England, of course," Mary responded.

"It's a shame we couldn't be here for the wedding," I chimed.

"Yes, it is! It was very beautiful, although it was extremely rushed," Mary said.

Katherine scurried back to me, and I hoisted her onto the chair beside me. "You're married to the king?" Katherine asked, almost disgusted.

"Yes, I am," Mary said.

"But he's a lot older than you!" Katherine exclaimed, appalled. She looked horrified.

"Yes, but sometimes royalty must marry for political purposes, just as I have. My marriage unites England and France," Mary explained, a twinge of sadness and disappointment in her voice.

"Mary, don't scare her. She's only a child," Henry warned, "Who knows- Katherine could be the one ruling over nations one day."

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published september 2, 2020